Blinded By Tears
by Saskya-Amant
Summary: How can someone be dead, when they are standing right in front of you? How can you let them go, when you can reach out and grasp them? How can you say goodbye when they keep saying hello? You can't.
1. Chapter 1

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******Disclaimer:** All characters and plot elements of the Harry Potter Series and franchise are owned by JK Rowlings and her representatives; Bloomsburry Books, RainCoast Books, Paramount etc. This is a work of fan enjoyment, and no copy-right infringement is intended. No profit is being made, or expected to be made on this endeavour.

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**Chapter One**

**Winter come Spring come Winter **

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**IT** felt like spring, the way you just knew something new was around the corner. A new season was beginning; new life about to be born.

Looking around it seemed impossible to believe that moment's ago; she had believed that the metaphorical winter would never cease. That they would forever be encased in its harsh frost and snow. That she would never again see the sun peek over the horizon, bathing the day in its warmth. She had so quickly believed that she would only have memories, memories that she clung so dearly to. Her boys rolling their eyes, laughter hiding beneath the surface, as she stomped her foot at them. 's cramped kitchen filled with her entire family, as she gazed on with so much love that you could not look on for to long, for the ache within your chest would become unbearable.

But it was over now. Everything could now move forward. She could now finally live her life. She could build and shape it without fear of it crumpling beneath her feet leaving her to fall. She could receive her reward for sacrificing her youth; her childhood to the throes of a madman's war.

A warm hand grasped hers, knocking her out of her reverie. Turning her head, Hermione gazed up at tired green eyes. They were smiling at her, realising that he too was free. Free from obligation, free from duty, free from prophecy. He looked too young to have had so much responsibility shoved upon him. She felt her throat clench and she scrambled, scratching, pulling at any bit of clothing her hands could find purchase on, drawing him into her arms. He was still the eleven-year-old boy she had met on the train. In that moment he had never grown, he had never faced things she wished to tear from his memories; he had never lost things she could not give back to him. It was as though they were just meeting again for the first time.

She could feel ever shudder that broke through his armour, her grip tightening on him. They were surrounded by a handful of Aurors, all looking around in shock at what they had just witnessed. Her Harry was a hero in their eyes; he would be a hero in everyone's eyes. But to her he was just a boy; she would hide his tears for him. No one need know, let the world see the hero.

Smoothing his hair down - as best she could - with her free hand, she whispered soothing words of comfort in his ear, "Let it out Harry. Let it go," she cooed, "It's finished, it's finally finished."

Minutes passed them by; him bent down to her shoulder, her encircling him her arms. She felt his body heave a sigh. Giving her one last tight squeeze he straighten, his gasses slightly askew. Harry's lopsided grin was back; it pulled at the strings in Hermione's chest to see it again after so long.

Glancing around, his brow drew together, "Where's Ron? I haven't seen him since--," he stopped his panic, as she tucked her hand into his pulling him gently towards the castle.

"Let's go look for him," she replied, a sad smile on her lips. The war was over, but the battle was far from finished. There was so much still that needed to be healed. As they reached the steps to Hogwarts, she stopped abruptly causing Harry to jerk back, their hands to stilled entwined.

"Hermione?"

He sounded worried, but not enough for her to pay any heed. She stared up at the castle that had been her home for six years. Pieces missing here and there, scattered around the grounds. Her breath was heavy as she tried to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she knew she had to be prepared for what she would see. Harry pulled her hand trying to bring her up the steps. His doe-like face flashed before her. He was still her little boy, she pressed her lips together tightly, fighting the tears she knew would spill after she was finished.

Drawing his other hand into hers, she stared up at him, "Harry, you must prepare yourself for what you will see in there."

He just stared at her as though she was speaking in another language. She could read his face as though it was one of her beloved books. They had won, what was there left to be prepared for? Everything was fine now.

Oh how she wished that was true.

"Harry, listen to me. There is a--," she paused for a moment to swallow her tears, "a distinct possibility that people inside will be severely injured. Or-- Or dead."

Again he simply stared at her. But slowly she could see it start to happen, his eyes hardening ever to slightly, his jaw flexing, his hands holding hers just that little bit tighter. She continued on, he just needed one more push, "Some of these people may be friends, Harry, people we love. Yes the war is over," she reached up and brushed his cheek with her hand. He had done that, he had saved them all, "but there are still repercussions because of it. Do you understand, Harry? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Hermione's voice was so scratchy against her throat, as she watched the boy that had moments ago been standing before her turn back into the moulded and manipulated solider Dumbledore had built. He had finally understood. She knew she had to have been blunt. There was no way around it; he had looked so naive, so childlike. As though the hardened years had never weighed upon his shoulders.

She felt so guilty, having to be the one to return the burden. But she knew she had to be selfish, if only for herself, as she knew deep down that she could not bare to see that little boy's face broken as he stared down onto the dead form of Remus Lupin. Hermione had known he had died before she had ran out in search of Harry, but they had all needed him focused. It ached within her chest to push Remus to the side like that, but it had to be done to win back the world he had once known, the world he had died fighting for.

As she stared up at Harry, she believed the man he had grown into would some how find a way to bare it, if only for a moment longer. Pulling him back in for a quick hug, she heard him mumble against her shoulder, "I'm ready."

Solidified, they walked hand in hand up the steps into Hogwarts victorious yet still defeated. The potent stench of blood and sweat assaulted their noses. Covering her face with her hand, Hermione continued walking delicately through the crumpled forms of Death Eaters and faceless students. Pulling her robes up, she avoided touching them and disturbing their quiet solace. Scattered among the rubble, conscious survivors still battled on against their pain or aided those in need.

Hermione spotted Neville bent over Hannah Abbott's leg, trying in vain to remove a large chunk of the Hogwarts wall from atop of her thigh. She pulled Harry in their direction to help. Her first instinct was to assess the damage done to Hannah's leg before removing the ruin. Pulling out of her wand, she reluctantly let go of Harry's hand and knelt down next to the girl. Just as she was about to peer down, a small rock fell to her left. Glancing up, she could see that the roof above them was shifting and grinding together causing bits of debris to fall around them. It was going to crumble in soon. Knowing that she was too weak to cast a reinforcement charm, she turned her attention to the boys.

"We need to move her now," she ordered, pointing up.

Both boys glanced up at where she was pointing and scrambled to lift the broken wall. With their combined strength they were able to free Hannah, Neville proceeded to carefully pick her up and move her to safely.

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry asked either of them, keeping his arms out ready in case Neville stumbled.

Hermione had stopped listening, as she got to her feet she had glanced up and from where she was now standing she could see directly into the Great Hall. Lying cold on the floor was Remus Lupin, she had known, but it still sent a stab down her spine seeing him again so lifeless. She couldn't help herself thinking that he finally looked peaceful, that he was finally at rest. The tears she had tried so hard to keep back before threatened to spill again. She was about to close her eyes from the sight, when she eyes caught a flash of purple behind him.

"No," she whispered to herself, "No, no, it-, no," her legs started taking her closer against her will. She tried to turn away as her eyes took in more, but her feet refused.

Harry noticed her walking away and reached out to her just as he looked up. His hand stilled in the air, grasping at nothing, before falling limp at his side, "No," he echoed, "Remus," his voice was broken once more, it was no longer held the determined strength she was so used it. It sounded weak and decrepit to her ears. She should have forewarned him, but she hadn't had the guts to tell him, that the last of his father's friends, the last connection he had was gone. She only just heard his voice crack again as he saw who lay next to Remus.

"Tonks," his breath hitched as he tried to form the words, "Teddy? His lost--"

His words trailed off, as Hermione closed her ears to the sound of crying. She knew he wasn't talking to her, so she focused on the small bundle in front of her eyes. He looked so real; she almost reached out to touch his smooth skin. But then her eyes saw the dead figures of his parents before her again. It was history repeating itself. That mad-mad orphaning another child, another son that would never know his parents. When would the pain and loss cease?

Mentally, Hermione stamped her foot. No. She was determined; she would make sure that Teddy would not have the same childhood as Harry. He would be constantly surrounded by people who loved him and wanted the best for him. Giving him all that his parents couldn't. She could just see it, baby-sitting little Teddy, fussing over him while he threw food all around her kitchen.

A sad smile was on her face when Harry turned to look at her. He moved around to face her directly, "Why are you smiling? What's so amusing about this? Please enlighten me to your joy," his voice was tight, restraining himself from shouting.

His tone pulled Hermione from her thoughts, looking up she could see anger growing in his eyes. There was her fighter. Come back to me Harry, give me something to cling onto, she thought. She looked back at their deceased friends, "He will truly be loved like no other child," she replied, not really answering his question.

"Who? Hermione?" Harry asked shaking her, drawing her gaze once more. He was looking at her as though she was delusional, maybe she was. But she couldn't help it, she needed to see something good come out of this, even it was the tiniest bit of hope that she could manage.

"Teddy, Harry, Teddy. Remus and Tonks will have not have to worry. They can watch down on him and smile. Knowing that he will always be in a family that loves and adores him. He will know exactly what kind of parents he had and the sacrifices they made so that he could have a life without the pain, without the loss as you have known," She answered, the day-dream smile returning as she stepped towards the large oak doors once more. As she stood there, her eyes glanced around seeing nothing. It all looked the same to her now, all blood and broken bones. As her eyes started to glaze over, she caught sight of familiar red-hair, before locking her gaze with steeling blue eyes.

Hermione could see the same relief that she had felt at seeing him alive release from his body. But beneath that, etched within his face was a haunting desolation. He looked hollow, all his emotions carved away. His mouth was drawn, and his usual glow was gone. His skin looked grey and too tight for his frame. Her heart knew then what her brain refused to acknowledge, but her heart knew and that was enough for her to still. Her feet sinking into the cold stone.

Her eyes remain locked with Ron's as he silently shock, sobs racking his body. She didn't blink, she didn't move. She knew if she did she would look and she didn't want to yet. She just wanted to relish in the fact that Ron was alive, unhurt and breathing. She just wanted to hold on to that for as long as she could.

She sensed Harry standing next to her again. His breathing was coming out in even puffs, in through his mouth, out through his nose. Steadying himself for what he was about to face. She silently counted to herself, hoping, praying that he would indicate nothing. That she had been wrong and that Ron was just exhausted from the war. But then she heard it. Her confirmation. The groan as he fell to his knees, tore right down her spine. She couldn't handle this, Harry was the hero not her and he was on the floor, what was she to do? She heard the clatter of his glasses hitting the floor, and the rub of his clothes as he brought his hands to his face. But still she didn't look away. A Weasley was dead but she didn't want to know, she couldn't bare to know which one. Ron was alive and that was enough for now. For he was her anchor, he was her footing, if he looked away she would be lost.

All eyes had turned to them when Harry had fallen; she had felt the air grow heavy under their gaze. She could feel their eyes raking her for injuries, for any sign that they were going to lose her as well. She concentrated on her breathing and her breathing alone, but in a split second it broke as though it had never existed. The sounds of the Hall came crashing down on ears. It all sounded magnified, bouncing around in the dark cave of her skull. It was too much. Her eyes felt scratching from all the tears she was yet to shed. To the side of her ,she saw a faceless girl with shiny red hair run up to Harry, entangling herself around him. His arms grasped her like she was his lifeboat. She was his anchor.

Her eyes betrayed her by looking down on the pair, but she couldn't watch Harry's disfigured face as he mumbled a never ending chorus into the girl's hair.

"It's my fault, it's all my fault. I'm so sorry, Ginny. Ginny, I'm sorry. It's all my fault--"

Pulling her gaze away, Hermione made the mistake of not instantly returning her focus to Ron's blue pools of despair. Instead she saw for the first time what lay at his feet. Mr. Weasley was on his knees, his hand clutching his eldest son's shoulder. She could see the tears rolling down his cheeks scarring his skin with their tracks. Bill was staring into the expanse of the Hall, not really seeing anything. He had retreated into himself, unaware of his father's death grip on him. The second oldest Weasley child, Charlie, was sitting off to the side. Madame Pomfrey waving her wand over his left arm, which Hermione could see had been broken, the bone ripping through his skin in an unnatural angle. His face registered nothing, no pain; his gaze did not leave his mother. Who lay on the ground next to her husband, clutching her dead son to her breast, rocking back and forth. Her face un-distinguishable beneath her anguish.

Hermione's eyes took it all in, but she ignored it. She didn't want to acknowledge what it meant she reminded herself. But just as she felt the fog start to cloud her head, it was blown aside as she heard a piercing scream dance against the stone walls of the hall. She cringed away from the sound, as Molly looked up revealing the face of her son, it was the same peaceful face as Remus.

Another scream broke the silence that had settled over the hall suffocating Hermione. Jagged sobs followed until a wailed cry was all that filled her ears, blocking out everything else. Hermione felt only pain in the sound, it rained down on her turning her bones to lead, until her body couldn't take the weight any longer and she collapsed against the side of the great oak door. All she wished for was silence, for the pained howl to stop, so that all she could hear was her own pulse beating its soothing rhythm. Anything to steady herself against the raw emotions she could feel trying to tear through her skin. Her body was shaking violently, a sharp pain shooting up her arm, glancing at her hand Hermione saw that she had the edge of the door in a death grip. Her knuckles almost transparent, she tried to see the blood pumping beneath the translucent skin, just to remind herself that she was alive, that she was breathing, that this was really happening.

Scrapping her nails down the wood, she felt the pain again, the cliff of her nail pulling against its adjoining skin until with a quick stroke it broke right off. She watched in fascination as blood started dripping down the back of her hand, the pain a numb ache in the back of her skull. The screaming in the background grew louder until she couldn't take it anymore and she covered her ears with her blood ridden hands and closed her eyes, trying to block it out. Counting backward she cleared her mind to the point where she realised that a pair of warms arms had folded her against a heavy chest. She heard a voice rumbling a word over and over, it sounded familiar, she knew that word. It almost sounded like home, like somewhere she could escape to. Looking up she was met with those blue eyes again. No longer were they desolate; they were swimming with tears and concern, and they were looking at her.

"Mione--? Mione? Listen to me, Hermione," he repeated, "Hermione, shhh. Please love, you need to stop screaming. Your going into shock, you need to calm down. Please Hermione, stay with me," his voice cracked with pain. His own and for some reason, she knew for hers as well.

It was her making that sound, she was the one in so much pain. But she couldn't stop, she didn't know how. Leaning into Ron's chest, she let it muffle her tears until her throat stuck and her cries could no longer escape. When there was nothing left, she just stood there, motionless. Hermione felt herself detach from her body. She was so sick of feeling, that was all she had been doing, feeling pain and hurt. She wanted it all gone. She watched from the side as Ron lifted her up into his arms as if she were weightless. He slowly walked her over to a nearby chair, she wasn't sure but she thought she heard him whisper something to her, but she couldn't make it out. And as though she was a new born baby, just brought into this world, he gently laid her down onto the chair. Kneeling in front of her, he never let go of her hand, squeezing it even now and then to keep her with him. But as she looked on, she could see what he was ignoring to acknowledge, it was just a shell sitting there. There was no one there. Her honey-brown eyes stared dulling into space, never blinking, never shifting. If she didn't see her chest moving she would of thought that she sat there dead. She felt truth in her thoughts, she was dead, she was the waking-dead. Her heart bleed but it felt nothing.

Just as she was about to let go, to allow herself to be swallowed by the darkness, she felt it. The drowning tension that swam within the eyes of this now broken family. They were waiting, collectively holding their breath. For what she was unsure, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was an essential piece she was missing. The last puzzle piece to complete the picture, but it escaped her. All she thought about was why could she see so much? She was supposed to be blind, swallowed by darkness. Why couldn't she just close her eyes and drift away?

As though granting her wish the edges of her vision started to blur as these thoughts passed her by. Then she saw it, oblivion slowly creeping its way towards her. She smiled that sad smile. Finally, was all she thought. Over and over.

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**SHE** didn't know how much time had passed; it felt as though she had gone numb to reality. Nothing existed. Just light. She had expected everything to be dark, comforting in its repression. But instead a blinding light surrounded her. Her eyes stung from it, but she refused to turn back. And then she heard it, that deep rich voice. It was a voice she thought she would never hear again. It bathed over her, as though it was the light in which surrounded her. It felt warm and pure. It couldn't hurt her; it would only keep her safe. It was home and it was calling her name.

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A/N: This is yet to be beta'd but I couldn't wait. I had to know what you guys think. I will upload later with the beta'd revision :)

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	2. Chapter 2

******Attention:** This story is now being written for the Harry Potter Fanfiction Festival,  
in the best angst story category, it has given me the motivation to finish this  
which I have wanted to for ages but never had the time. So yeah!  
You can find the link below for more details... Remember to remove the space  
surrounding 'fanfiction' otherwise it won't work.

** http:/forum. fanfiction .net/topic/44309/59591723/1/**

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**Chapter Two  
**

**Darkness come Again**

**THE **boy's hand was rough, callous and dry. She knew it was from potion ingredients and too much time with a wand in his hand. But it had never matter to her, his hands were perfect to her as they gently made the path down her jaw. Her eyes were closed just relishing the presence of the boy – no man – before her. The musty scent of wood oak and something else she could never distinguish. But completely him, no one else smelled like he did. It had been too long; they had been separated for too long. Opening her eyes she could see everything she felt reflected back at her in his face. He hid nothing from her, she could see it all even in the dark forgotten room at 12 Grim Place as he liked to call it. Always with his jokes. Just thinking of all the times he had made her laugh his eyes sparkling with mirth just at seeing her smile made her heart want to burst.

She raised her hand to capture his, pulling it down to lay a soft kiss on the back of his palm. She opened her mouth to say goodbye, but like always he already knew what she was going to say and shook his head, placing a finger to her lips. Now was not the time for goodbyes. They would see each other again, some how they would. She didn't want him to leave but he wasn't supposed to be there, this wasn't his part of the fight. He had to get back to family. He had to protect them for she couldn't bare the thought of any of them being hurt, they had become her family and she prayed one day that it would not just be in her heart. Closing her eyes again, she wrapped her arms around his slender shoulders pulling him close against her, feeling his chest move with each breath he took. She loved him, she knew it with every fibre of her being, she loved this man with all his faults and adorable quirks. Every inch of him she loved. As she pressed her face into her neck, her arms growing tighter around him, she tried to think of how she could express this to him, how to show him that he had become her world. She had to make him understand that once her job was done, once she had helped Harry defeat the mad-man she would never leave his side. That she was his completely body, soul, mind, heart, being, every little hair on her body was his, if he would have her.

As she search for the words, he pulled back gazing down into her eyes reading her like a book. He smiled at her, it was soft and gentle on his face. His deep voice broke the silence that had surrounded them like a cocoon. It vibrated through her like it always did but the message was clear. He knew how she felt, he knew because he felt it too. Again she opened her mouth to say goodbye but not for long and again he stopped her, this time place a chaste kiss to her lips and then he was gone.

Her arms hung stiff in the air surrounded where he had once stood. She would see him again, she had to.

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**HERMIONE**felt herself wake up, it was a weird feeling she had never experienced it before. She imagined it was akin to that of people in a coma, aware but not being in control of their bodies. She lay there limp in an unknown bed listening to the sounds of the world around her. It didn't take her long to realise she was at the Burrow. She was safe.

She could hear Ron's voice downstairs talking with Harry and Ginny. They seemed so different that what she remembered, a little lighter, not as clipped. Her mind was a fog and she knew she was forgetting something but it never came. Hermione tried to move her arms but they didn't budge, as though the mechanics that made them work were busted. She tried for something else and managed to open her eyes. She was in Ginny's room and sitting in a lone chair by the window was Charlie Weasley, she thought it odd at first that it would be him but gave it no extra thought as she tried to get up. She groaned from the effort but nothing she did would compel her body to move. After a while Charlie began to stir, Hermione coughed trying to find her voice until finally she managed to call out his name. Charlie jumped up with a start looking around dazed before his eyes landed on her. His face relaxed and he ran to the door shouting out to everyone, he spun around on his heel wand in hand muttering as he waved it over her body. A yellow shimmering light floated above her for mere seconds and then it felt as though gravity slammed itself down on her body. She let out all the air in her body and slumped back into the bed.

Ron barged through to her bedside grabbing her hand in tow of his staring down into her eyes, his face smiling broadly at her. "Hermione, you're ok."

Harry stood behind Ron smiling at her also, he looked relieved as well. "Gave us quite a scare." He added.

Hermione tried to smile back but everything ached, her head throbbing against the pillow. It was then that she realised that she had moved her arm, she stared at in wonder and then tried pulling herself up into a sitting position. With a little help from Ron she finally managed it.

"We had to paralyse you, you were flaying constantly and screaming for days before Charlie placed the spell on you." Ron explained.

Hermione just nodded in understanding. How long had she been asleep, she felt like it had only been a couple of hours, but as she looked on at the others her active mind realised it had to have been longer. She knew her friends and knew that they would not be in such good shape after such short amount of time.

"How—how long?" She choked out.

Harry stepped forward this time, taking a sit on the bed besides her legs. He gave them a reassuring pat before looking over at her. "You withdrew within yourself after. We tried everything we could think of to get you to snap out of it, but nothing worked. Eventually we figured you'd just come out in your own time when you were ready. It's been three weeks." Harry whispered the last part; Hermione could hear what he was not saying in his voice. He had been worried, scared even. Scared that she may never have woken up. She moved her hand over his and smiled at him.

"I'm fine now." She managed; her throat felt like it was on fire every word causing blisters to burst deep within her throat. She coughed until Mrs. Weasley came in stopping in her tracks at seeing Hermione awake. She quickly ushered everyone out and gave her something for her throat and told her to rest.

Hermione thought she would never sleep again, but her body still felt exhausted after having been trapped in what ever state she had been in for three weeks and before she could stop it she was enclosed in darkness again.

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**HERMIONE**opened her eyes for the second time that day; at least she hoped it was the same day. The room was dark and she groped her face checking to see if her eyes were indeed open. They were, it was just dark in the room, night time. It took a while for her eyes to adjust, but eventually she could make out the shadowy lines of Ginny's dresser, the mirror that stood by the door and the curtain that hung down covering the moon from bathing its light in the room. She nearly missed the sleeping form in the chair by the window until she heard the soft intake of breath. She pushed her body to its limit and sat bold up trying to see who it was. To her it had only been a day since she had been fighting for her life covered in rumble and blood, her body and mind was still wired for danger.

Managing a sitting position with her feet touching the cold wooden floors, she angled her face to see the stranger in the moonlight. Red hair sat just above a set of slender shoulders, sea blue eyes stared straight at her, unblinking, cold and distant. But she could see as she squinted in the light that there was softness to the man's expression. She could see without any doubt that there was pain trapped beneath those eyes but it was his pain, and his alone. He pushed himself forward soaking his face into the light.

She felt her soul scream for him, as she tumbled from the bed and into his arms. She was so consumed with her need to be close to him that she needed notice straight away that his touch was different, it wasn't familiar it wasn't home. She pushed her face in his hair breathing in; it was then that she froze. She couldn't remember how to move, her limbs separated from her some how this time without the aid of magic.

"Hermione." The deep voice was the same, but she could hear the subtle difference and it tore her heart in to. The roll of the r was clipped, the i slightly sharper. He had said her name so many times it was ingrained in her subconscious.

She pulled back falling backwards until they were no longer touching. The man before her made no move to catch her, no move to help her to her feet. He just watched as she took in his features. His hair was richer, brassier. There were freckles she had never caressed on the bridge of his nose. A soft curve in the corner of his mouth. A scar above his left eyebrow. A missing ear. A tingle of green in his blue eyes.

He watched as the realisation hit her and her pain flashed in front of his face. He understood it, better than anyone else ever could, for he felt it also.

She shook her head trying to rid her mind of the errors her eyes saw. It was all wrong, all wrong. But it had to be him, she couldn't have lost him. But as she continued to look at him she knew, she knew completely body, soul, mind, heart, being, every little hair on her body knew that this was not the man she loved.  
His deep voice filled her ears once more and she tried to shut it out. She didn't want to hear it, not if it wasn't his, but she heard and his message got a across all the same. He knew.

"You are the only person who could tell us apart. Not even our own mother could. For that I know you loved him just as much as I."


End file.
